It’s one of those things there should be a book about.  In the hospital, they show you how to get a good latch and change a diaper, but they don’t say boo about the challenges you’ll be met with as you and your little one venture out to the local park.

First off there are the basic questions.  Are you a dirty hippie if you let your kid take their shoes off in the sandbox?  What about discarded sand toys?  If you forget your bucket, are they fair game to let your little play with?

But moving on…your kid starts chasing another around the swing set, and BOOM – you’ve got a new parent to chat up.  But when the kiddos click, what is your obligation to reach out for a play date?  Do you have one?  Are you psychotic if you do it?   Will you look like a loon if you offer up a phone number or email address so that you kids can continue to connect?  What about a Mom you click with?  Or a Dad?  How do you take that park meeting to the next level?  And should you?

To be clear, I have no answers here.  I’m kind of hoping you guys can enlighten me.  It’s happened a few times now where Dee and I will meet a lovely Mama daughter duo at the park and I feel my palms start to sweat like I’ve been cornered by my Jr. High crush.

To date, I’ve exchanged names with a couple of Moms, but never taken it further – hoping that perhaps we’ll bump into each other again.  No such luck.  But I’m a WAHM with limited childcare (thank moses for Grandmas!).  My kid has NO FRIENDS.  Okay she has two friends, who we are eternally grateful for, but beyond that, I feel like I’m failing her big time.  {I know, I know…it’s time for some Mommy and Me. We do do a music class, so she’s not a complete recluse.}

So yesterday, Dee and I are at the park and she finally gets up the nerve to approach “that purple gril” who she’s been eying across the park.  And turns out the little girl’s Mom is lovely, we were chatting easily by the time Dee climbed up into the swing next to her new friend.

…And then she says it:  “So, do you guys live around here?”  We do, and the conversation turns to other parks in the area, and which ones we frequent.  We exchange names.  And I’m still on my Alt Summit high where it’s totally normal to slip someone your business card, so OMG I did just that.  “Well, let me give you my email if you ever want to meet up at XXX park.”  She seemed receptive, but I couldn’t help feeling like a total dingus as I handed over a card with my social media addictions scrawled all over it.  I mean…the damn thing heralds my twitter handle and says “wordsmith / gal friday” on it.  W.T.F.?

So am I a freak?  Do you think she’ll call?  Do you think she would have called but then she got curious and came to my blog and saw this post and now she definitely won’t? 

I think I need a drink.

Sunday morning Delilah woke us up saying “I want to see Mickey and Pluto and Minnie and Goofy and talk to them.  And Donald Duck.”

Dee George is really super in to talking right now.  She’s pretty sure she knows all the words and she is just amped up to use them.  She forgoes shy-ness on most occasions in favor of just rattling off all the words she knows to anyone who will listen…which really freaks people out because she’s also still miniature and has very little hair.

So anyway – we took her to Disneyland and she didn’t cry or recoil from her “friends” (what she calls the characters) for a second.  She did however, barely utter a word to anyone BUT Mickey and the gang the entire day while she stared in awe trying to take in all of the sights and sounds and friends the Magic Kingdom had to offer.

[pretty much how Dee looked the whole day, above, seeing Mickey dance about 10 feet in front of her with her big cousin Eves...POV below]

On the drive down, I was gripped with the realization that I was going to Dland as a parent for the first time.  As we pulled in on the monorail (which was AWESOME, by the way – parking in downtown disney and catching the monorail into Tomorrowland gave Dee an incredible view of the insanity before we hit the ground running) my mouth was dry — I think a sense memory from looking down on the dumpsters we congregated at on Grad Night — the most depraved activity the happiest place on earth plays host to (they open the park to about 1000 High School seniors over night.)  And all the while with my toddler on my lap.  And my formerly punk-rock teenaged boyfriend had somehow morphed into this full-blown-man-husband-feather-person sitting next to me.

I mean…It was the best day.  Being a parent at Disneyland turned out to be WAY MORE AWESOME than being a kid at Disneyland.  We strolled through the park with our girl, watching her tiny mind be blown at every turn, and then when we tucked her into bed that night, we got to listen as she finally opened her mouth and let the excitement turn into a flow of abrupt shouts that included “I see Mickey and talk to him and hug him!” and “I show Pooh my kitty!”  (Oh, c’mon you perverts — we let her pick out a stuffed animal and she chose Marie from the Aristocats.)  She’s still shouting about new memories every few minutes.

Luckily, in the wake of Christmas, learning that pretty much everyone I spoke to bribed their children with chocolate to get them to use the potty gave me a stroke of…functional thought. So she’d ask for a marshmallow, and I’d tell her she could have one if she used the loo. …Only she’s two. So she doesn’t totally get the concept of “before” and “after” potty-ing. Or if she does, than she’s very manipulative, and I’m terrified for the teenage years. Either way – what started as bribery has now turned on to a constant chorus of “Mommy, I want a Marshmallow” while she sits on the toilet attempting to wiz. And it kind of steals the thunder of the reward for success when I’ve got her popping mini marshmallows just to keep her there.

On the upside, she is totally asking to use the potty, and successfully doing so. On the downside, she is seriously sugar-addled and it can’t be okay to let a toddler eat this much crap. So…I’ve come up with some ideas for healthier potty-treats until I can get a handle on my child. {I was calling them Potty Cookies but Scott made me stop because he says “she’s going to repeat that and it’s going to come out wrong.” Which, touche.}

Okay, so Idea #1, Mini Snickerdoodles. Pro: Easy to make, and delicious.

Con: Still a sugar cookie, even if I make ‘em with whole wheat flower to make myself feel better.

So then I thought about a modified (read: no Splenda) South Beach Peanut Butter cookie.  Con – has the same amount of sugar as the snickerdoodle, but way more protein, what with all the peanut butter + Pro: Gluten Free.  Also I just found this awesome Toilet shaped cookie cutter that I’d love an excuse to buy.

Yogurt Covered Raisins have been my healthiest hit, and later on I’m tackling homemade marshmallows, if for no other reason than they are supposed to be off the chain delicious and I have a growing collection of fun cookie cutters and a near-insatiable sweet tooth.

But uh…I feel like I’m off topic.  Point is – which is worse?  An incontinent teenager, or a toothless sugar junkie?

…Yeah, I heard it.